Take Care
by dragonchrysalis
Summary: Takes place between Season 5 and Season 6. Dawn's sick. Still trying to conceal Buffy's death from the world while looking after Dawn, the gang is understandably panicky.


The door slammed and Spike glanced up where he was lounging on the couch, watching TV. Dawn dropped her backpack on the floor and started upstairs.

"Hey!" Spike called after her. "Don't leave your bag there, you want Willow to kill the both of us? She spent four hours scrubbing that floor yesterday." Dawn groaned.

"No, she didn't. She spent four hours figuring out the perfect spell to clean the _entire house_. The actual cleaning part? Only took about four _seconds_." Nevertheless, she slung her backpack over one shoulder.

"Janice's mum bring you home?" Spike asked. Dawn nodded.

"Just like every Thursday. Willow and Tara have class and Xander and Anya are both working. So I get to spend a scintillating evening with the world's only neutered vampire."

"Hey!" Spike protested. "None of that cheek. Besides, all the bits down there still work. It's my head that's chipped, not my –" Dawn held up a hand to stop him before he could go any further.

"Stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I _so_ do not need to know the details of your sex life." The last words were punctuated with a series of coughs, finally tearing Spike's attention completely away from the TV.

"How long have you had that cough, love?" he asked.

"How long have _you_ been watching soap operas?" Dawn countered, wheezing a bit.

"My crypt doesn't get cable and it's hard to find decent programming on when you're awake all night. Don't change the subject. How long have you had that cough?"

"Oh, just a day or so, no biggie really." Dawn said innocently. Spike merely raised an eyebrow.

"A week?" she tried. Higher still went the eyebrow. She sighed. "Fine, it's been about two weeks, but it's no big deal, really, I'm fine." Unfortunately, her lie was immediately obliterated as she sneezed in rapid succession, finally sinking down to sit on the bottom step, clutching the banister. Spike rose and started towards her.

"You're not fine, pet." He felt her forehead as she whined and made a feeble attempt to swat him away. "You feel warm to me, but vamps run cold naturally. Where does your mum –" He stopped. "Where's the thermometer?" he corrected. There was a beat of silence as both of them silently decided not to acknowledge the slip-up.

"Bathroom cabinet, bottom shelf." Dawn sighed weakly. In no time at all, Spike was back, shoving the thermometer under her tongue. When it beeped, he took it out and looked at it, frowning.

"That's definitely a fever. Not too high though, always a good thing. Go upstairs and get into bed. I'm calling the girls." Dawn looked like she was about to argue for a minute, then thought better of it and trudged up the stairs.

"I'm becoming a bloody nursemaid." Spike grumbled as he headed for the phone.

* * *

By the time the girls made it back from campus, Willow was fairly frantic.

"Spike? Where's Dawn? You said she was sick? How – how sick? Like, sick sick? Or…or like, just a sniffle and some DayQuil sick?" Tara put a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder to calm her. It didn't seem to be working.

"Relax, witch. Dawn's upstairs in bed. Got a nasty cough and a low-grade fever, sneezing a bit too, but it doesn't seem to be all that bad yet." Spike assured her, though he looked like he was contemplating where his afterlife had gone wrong.

"Thank god they didn't send her home from school." Willow fretted. "We would've had to send the Buffybot to sign her out and what would the bot have said?"

"Dawn is not well. Dawn is my sister. I shall go take care of her." The Buffybot smiled brightly as it lumbered into the room. Tara shrugged.

"Well, now we know the answer to that question."

Willow wasn't amused. "The less the bot is seen in public, the better." She said firmly. "I'm still trying to work out some of the kinks."

"For the love of God, please tell me the bot doesn't still want to ride me like a pony." Spike muttered.

Willow blushed. "Ummmm….well, uh, I mean, I – I'm pretty sure I got all that out but i-it was hardwired into the circuitry and….and…" Spike held up a hand to stop her.

"Got the picture. Work on that. I'd rather not have a lovesick bot following me around for all eternity."

"A-and whose fault was that? Who ordered the bot in the first place?" Willow countered, growing more bold with each word that left her lips.

"Hey, you'd best be grateful I did, or you'd be stuck in a pickle right now!" Spike argued. The two promptly delved into a full fledged squabble. After a few minutes, Tara decided to take drastic measures. She stuck two fingers and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Immediately, the yelling stopped, and Spike and Willow both stared at Tara as if they had forgotten she was in the room. Tara visibly wilted, confidence draining as quickly as it had came.

"Guys, this isn't helping." she said quietly, already regretting drawing attention to herself. "I-I think someone should go check on Dawnie." In the pause that followed, Dawn's harsh coughs could be heard from all the way downstairs. Willow opened her mouth to say something, looking chagrined, but was cut off by the Buffybot.

"I will go!" the bot chimed cheerfully.

"NO!" shouted all three in unison. Not to be deterred, the Buffybot changed tactics and headed for the kitchen.

"I will make soup! Soup is good when someone is sick!" Willow groaned.

"I should follow it. Make sure it doesn't burn the house down or something."

"I'll go see how Dawnie's feeling." Tara volunteered, starting towards the stairs.

"I'm coming with you." Spike was quick on her heels. "Got to get away from that bloody bot anyway." And without further ado, the trio split up, leaving the room empty – and just a bit lonely – in their wake.


End file.
